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Mar 2022 · 180
Mirrored horizons.
Justin S Wampler Mar 2022
There's no real relief.
Just an endless search.

Suffering abated, gives way
to new suffering.
Solutions turn up only
new longings, only
new reliefs
to set one's sights on.

Circles ring round
the nature of man,
we trace them
in our thoughts.

In our actions.

They don't see me,
not really.
I'm just a pair of sunglasses
reflecting a blue morning sky
with jetliners carving scars
in the mirrored horizons.

I'm just a smile to them,
to anyone.

Just as they are
to me.

We're all just sifting through
the dust of life,
looking for a hidden relief
to some hidden suffering.

So that we may suffer anew
once again.
Mar 2022 · 218
The midnight eye
Justin S Wampler Mar 2022
The moon winked at me
when I glanced the windy midnight sky.
Its eyelid a lone cloud,
trundling heavy and tired.
Trees' leaves danced all around
with the sound of a hushed little sigh.
Oh sleeping evening,
oh great seeping eye.
Kindly quiet your come hithers
and just leave me to die.
The cold gives way to warmth,
the warmth blankets my mind.
Give up your heart,
for then comes the freedom to fly.

Sights set on the tallest of timbers,
feathered wings outstretched at my sides.
Trying to escape the remembers
though no matter how hard I try,
glimpses of the past still flash
like reflections of moonlight in my eye.
Faster now, I reach for the stars
as I pump air and fly
all the way up
to the top of the sky.
Heart racing, breathless to boot,
I fold up my feathers and find
that I'll never be able to reach it.
Reasons I'll never be able to find.
Soundless, I'll fall to the Earth
and gravity will feel just fine.

Though,
I wanted to skim on the waters,
I wanted to sing of those times
That I watched the sun turn to embers
and the moon wink in the midnight sky.
Mar 2022 · 117
Untitled
Justin S Wampler Mar 2022
Voice in my head got too persuasive.
Mar 2022 · 112
Fumeral
Justin S Wampler Mar 2022
I'll rake my fingers through the loose dirt,
the gravel and the disintegrating asphalt.

I'll sift it
in search
of what's
been lost.

Dropped, slipped through
my buttery mitts.

Squeeze the stones.

I can hear my heartbeat in my teeth.
I can feel the sunshine on the nape of my neck.
I can taste the dust of desperation,
it dries my tongue to a raspy strip of jerky.
I can smell you here. Coating my lungs
like a plague.

Exhale.
Mar 2022 · 138
Bury
Justin S Wampler Mar 2022
I want to eat
until I don't feel anymore
because
when I feel
I don't want to eat anymore.




I'm going to start seriously drinking again
because
I've been doing a lot of serious thinking again.

**** rhyme.
It's been made
ten thousand times.
*******.
**** me.

If you die
before me,
I'll exhume you
and curl up
against the
cold flesh.

Finally your outside
will match
your insides.

Chilled,
and rotting.
Mar 2022 · 214
Lactic
Justin S Wampler Mar 2022
Looking for love
is looking for somewhere new
to run away from.

Searching for someone,
to then leave
for something else.

Touch,
momentarily feel
what could be.

What never will.
Justin S Wampler Mar 2022
The simple joy
of taking a massive dump.

Rushing home, feeling the pressure.

Fumbling with my keys in the door.

Dropping my coat to the floor.

Sitting,

sweet release.
Mar 2022 · 195
Three
Justin S Wampler Mar 2022
There is nothing I've found
that quite rivals the sound
of a loaded gun.

Love is a dulled knife,
but throughout my life
it's the only tool I've known.

Bled all these words free.
The pen bled out for me,
now an inkless, plastic bone.

With these three simple things
im beginning to bring
meaning into my soul.
Mar 2022 · 110
Lorne's prayer
Justin S Wampler Mar 2022
This is misery
wrapped up in a tasty, flakey
egg roll pastry.

Bite right into me,
see what comes flowing
through your teeth.

This is misery,
we are history,
and we're never coming home.

This is misery it's
not a mystery
how we ended up alone.

It's distracting me
how the distance between
just never seems to shrink
at all.

This is misery,
somber symphony
of a thousand creaking bones.

We're still history,
a book brimming with grief
for what could've been
but now no one will ever know.
What happened to me?
Did I always bounce between
the present and futures unknown?

This is misery,
don't call out for me,
I'm never coming home.
Feb 2022 · 102
Missing something.
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
But you don't know what it is.

Dropped something,
patting my pockets.
Feeling for what is not,
yet what should be.

Knife, wallet,
phone, keys.
Gun.
Smokes, matches.
Vape, shades.

All here
and accounted for,
yet...
The worst feeling is knowing you're forgetting something,
but not knowing what it is.
Feb 2022 · 149
Happiness
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
God let out a sigh in the morning frost,
burying the valley in billows of thick fog
and as I drove, white knuckled, through
his great exasperation with utmost care.
I saw the evil within myself painted so
meticulously in the rear view mirror.
A toothy demon looked back at me as
I smiled, after smearing cold, gray asphalt
with the blood of some crossing rodent.
I was pleased with the double thwump
sound, indicating that I had ran it down
with both the front and the rear wheels.
Killing **** felt good that dank morning,
I relished in the thought, in the blind fury.
I quivered in delight at the idea of burning
gasoline, chuffing choking clouds and fumes
into the air to mix with this blinding fog.
I gnashed my teeth hungrily at the notion
of polluting the beauty that surrounds us all
while bouncing the needle off the rev limiter.
I wanted to watch it all perish, I wanted to
find every last happy person on earth and
drown them in a river of my filthy anguish.
I felt my anger swelling, and I swam into its
rippling currents. I dove into that sea of rage
and drank greedily of it's salted undertow.
My mind was a plane of fire, a flat rift of pain
where everything I've ever loved would never
be allowed to love anyone or anything again.
Jaw clenched so hard I felt a molar crack and
a rivulet of auburn blood trickled down my chin.
I saw my destiny flash before me in a sudden
blaze of pulsing red warning lights popping
through the dewy fog, and before I had time to
even consider an apology to whatever it was
that I called God, the inside of my windshield
became plastered with the contents of my skull
as I crashed full speed into the back of a stopped
school bus.

Finally happy,
yet still a poor soul.
Feb 2022 · 129
Sighing, resigned.
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
Set upon the passing day,
a song, a hymn,
a rhythm, a sway.

The waning determination
of a winter sun,
it gives up on the bruised sky.

The dawning comprehension,
like a loaded gun,
rests heavily on the mind.

Set upon a budding day,
a system, a sin,
it's the only way.
Feb 2022 · 262
Let go
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
Can't quite find a way out.
Myself and my own capabilities
are the things that I doubt.

Sent it out, in the mail your
little package of sensibilities.
I'm just afraid of failure.

When the sun shines brightly in my eyes
with clear skies and blue eternity,
I can't seem to stay in this disguise.

It feels too **** good.
With perfect certainty.
Letting go, like I knew I would.
Feb 2022 · 92
Quality house
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
That familiar dizzy
graces me again.

Tastes like a grimace.
The taste of fate again.

Twelve bucks
is cheap
to feel this
blessedness.
To feel this
sin.

That familiar fuzzy,
vision blurred again.

Tastes like forgetting,
the taste of home again.
Feb 2022 · 590
In a bidding war for love.
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
She stole my heart.

I found it
listed on eBay.
Feb 2022 · 122
Prayer to Saint Abatement
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
I don't need this,
it's all refuse
and I refuse
to keep it any longer.

All my beloved,
all my collected
and cherished.
They're heavy
with sentiment,
burdened with
memory.

Artifacts of my past
that I cling to,
like plastic wrap.

Take all of me,
every scrap and
every piece and
send me home
to waste management.

Free my thoughts
from the chains
of remembrance,
so that I may sing again.
Feb 2022 · 139
Breakfast soup
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
The milk goes first.
I'm tired of being ostracized by the cereal-firsters.

I've watched these freaks literally fill an entire
bowl up to the top with cereal, then try to fit
milk in. They get one solid layer of crunchy goodness
then have half a bowl left of mushy, soggy garbage.

And yes,
it's a soup.

*******.
Feb 2022 · 286
Volume correlation
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
All the loudest folk lie endlessly,
while the honest and the truthful
never speak a single word.
Feb 2022 · 116
Burgundy interior
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
A gnarled guardrail
is what remains.

One day they'll fix it,
I'll never think of you again.

Life proceeds.
It speeds
along these
worn streets.

I eye
the guardrails
with fervor, fervently.
I sometimes
yearn
to gnarl one up.

Eyes on the lines, now.
They'll lead me
home.
Feb 2022 · 232
I'd
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
I'd
rather be honest
and alone
than live
together
under false pretenses.
Feb 2022 · 563
Mate
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
Sometimes
people
end up
alone.

Sometimes
It's by
choice.

Other times
it's because
they're fat,
or ugly.
Feb 2022 · 92
Eyes don't matter.
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
There's a sinking ship
beneath our feet.

We don't notice it though,
we can't see.

Busy playing in the metaphysical dirt,
busy tumbling gravel and stones from our shoes.
Busy. Too busy.

What do you notice
first thing
on a Sunday morning?

That's all that
ever really matters.
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
So when tomorrow comes
I'll try to remind myself
that this is what I chose.

This is the life
I deserve to live.

Wet boots,
menial tasks.

Remember Justin,
this is what
you wanted.
Feb 2022 · 136
Make you regret.
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
I'm ingenuine.
Disingenuous.
...whatever.

Diner.
Dinerettes.
Grace me,
I'm your
favorite.

Serve me, I tip well.
Now show me your *****,
I won't tell.

God I want
To taste it,
to dip
into you.
Feb 2022 · 80
Hand in hand
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
**** man.
I literally can't stop drinking.

I took a day off,
yesterday.
But it don't matter.

I was bitter and angry
all day today.

So I grabbed a bottle
on my way home.

I'm an alcoholic.

But I'm a poet too?
Feb 2022 · 104
So fuck accordingly.
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
There is something
inherently unattractive
about a woman
with a high number
of ****** partners.

I will judge you
by your body count.
Feb 2022 · 202
Receptacles
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
Tonight I filled
I filled up
a bottle of Beam,
A coke
and a 16 ounce glass.

I filled it all up
with ****.

Because yes,

I'm that ******* lazy.
Feb 2022 · 87
Justin
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
I blatantly hate myself.

Today I went and drove myself
up against a wall.
I get angry at nothing.
I bottle it all.

Glory, I can hardly wait
for that bottle to break.
Then maybe I'll justify
all this self hate.

I want to burn a church,
I want to ****.

I want to leave this plane.
I want to cross this gate.
Feb 2022 · 227
Child
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
Ain't been a man of my word lately,

feels fine.

Just fine.
Jan 2022 · 94
gasoline and batteries
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Touch tongues with me,
taste the bitter taste of acid.

Shocking how
the tide turns us now,
alight with solemn flame.
Left burning again.
Jan 2022 · 95
Cigarette
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Baneful meditation comes
swathed in twisting blue twine.

Peer out at life for a moment,
let life peer within you.

Don't pry, it will come unforced.
It will find you, it will come
bearing mirth and sorrow.
It will carry with it a bounty,
A wicked trove of all that is good and evil.
It will come for you
brandishing a justly balanced scale,
on which everything in life is weighed.

Turn a burning match up,
light the way and just
wait.
Just inhale, just
breathe.
Jan 2022 · 84
Look,
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
I don't like to write.
I write for the likes.
That being said, I don't hate to write either.

So ******* and the horse you rode in on.
Jan 2022 · 102
Stolid, without conviction.
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Change.

I feel a slight breeze
as I stand upon
the precipitous edge
of indecision.

The earth tilts,
I teeter and waver
and then regain
my false sense of balance.

I can't stay here forever,
I know that much.
Looking down at my options,
I ponder whether it's better
to make a decision and jump,
or wait for fate
to push me one way or another.

The breeze picks up.
Time is babbling by.

I can wait
just a bit
longer.
I'm safe here, stagnant but safe.
Jan 2022 · 105
Excrement
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
What is it?
What am I supposed to,
to...

To want?

I'll crawl over the shattered glass
left from the window I broke
when I was trying to desperately escape your love,
I'll crawl over it all
just to get you back.

No, not you, ****.
The previous one.

I'll lacerate. It'll all be in vain.

Because I know I don't want you,
I know what I don't want.
Cut this **** out of my previous poem. Poem poem poem. *******.
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
God knows
I always hated
being loved,
being
together.
I always hate.
I hated all ways,
always.
Always. All ways.
All ways lead within.
All weighs, too heavy again.
All weight resides with kin.
I'll weigh,
I'll wait.
I'll wade through
aisle ways and
isle ways and
all I'll, I'll weigh
all aisles and
all isles and...
Anyway,
any way I'll get it
I'll take it.
I'll take aisles.
Aisles often taken,
isles on the lake and,
I'll take the taken.
All taken.
I'll ache an
alt ache and
all wait and
I'll wait in the
isles wake.
I'll wake and
all waken, and
I'll...

All..

Always
and always,
and
always and
always.
Greener with the scenery.

I feel extraordinarily schizophrenic.
Jan 2022 · 444
Block
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
I've nothing
to say.

So I've gone and said it.
10w lazy
Jan 2022 · 520
Sugar
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
She used three
prescription placebo pills
to sweeten her coffee.
At least,
that's what
she said
they were.
Jan 2022 · 147
amorphous
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Were mirrors to melt,
I'd set them ablaze.

I'd laugh
at my molten gaze.
I'd smile
at the puddle.

Twenty thousand years
I'd watch,
as the glass
slowly forgot.

Give me
pride,

I'll love
again.
Jan 2022 · 709
Cuter
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Want.
I want.
I want you.
I want
you
to cut.
To.
To cut
for.
Too cute
for
me.

Cute for me.

Seep, and weep
for my memories.

Leak salted burgundy.

Remember
the things
worth remembering,
forget why.
Forgetting,
forgotten.
For getting me.
For me.
Get me.

Forget for me.
Because I
Forgot for you.

I leak
diligently,
as you
wanted
me to.

Cuter.
Cutter.
Show
your
scars.
Jan 2022 · 88
Lone
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Bled it out, one,
one day at a time.

I shouted at you.

You didn't cry.

I don't find none,
none is what I find.

I tried for you.

You didn't try.

Bled it out one day,
one day without time.
Jan 2022 · 289
Fortunate
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Maybe not a house,
but I'll buy us a trailer.
Jan 2022 · 264
Sanpaku
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Three whites walk into a bar.

With a gaze like this,
***** is never too far.
Jan 2022 · 113
Let's get coffee sometime.
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Met this broad on tinder,
she told me that she was hesitant about dating
due to the fact that she just got out of
an abusive relationship.

Sounds like just my type of gal,
I wonder how her relationship with her father is.
I'm salivating now.

I sympathized with her, and said that I too
had just gotten out of an abusive relationship.
I recounted the story about how, after two years
of daily emotional and physical abuse,
my ex had at last found the courage and support
that she needed to finally leave my ***. That ****.
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Something about a struggle,
relatable and common.
Some profound comparison,
or some kind of simile.

Something very human,
something about overcoming or
about accepting and embracing.
Something about relishing
in negativity,
something about addiction or loss.

Something indictive of heartbreak,
something reminiscent of love.

Something outlandish,
to stand out from the sea of adequacy.
Something something.
Words and
meanings.
Something self-loathing.

Something abstract,
something concrete.

Poetry.
Jan 2022 · 861
Cartography
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Don't ever let distance trick you
into thinking that things would all
be so much better otherwise.

The things I hated about you
from all those miles away,
are still the things I hate about you
standing face to face.
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Confucius say,
the deeper the tread on workboot,
the harder it is to remove dog ****.
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
I love seeing suicide survivors.

Like ****,
you **** at that too, huh?
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
I should be going to bed at 8:00,
so I start drinking as soon as I get home.
But the issue is
that I don't get drunk anymore
until about 10:00.

Maybe I'll start leaving work a few hours early.

Maybe I just gotta focus on getting it down faster.
Jan 2022 · 123
Brandy.
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Ahh, that sweet familiarity.
Effervescent glugs of flowing amber,
laminarity long forgotten
with this well-practiced wrist.

Some still spills,
occasionally.

Sop it up with a sleeve,
or one of the *** laden socks
on the ground.

Don't come here,
the door is locked and
the person within
is no longer
the person you remember.

Though he's always been here,
waiting to swim.

He floats atop the gallons of flowing amber
that I've been trying to drown him in.

Smiling his bitter smile,
bearing his knowing grin.
Jan 2022 · 153
1337 G4M3R
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Nothing dries out a ***** faster
than having three monitors
and a light up keyboard.
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